#447 - WSOP Notebook #20 - Sound Asleep in the Lost City of Gold

[written June 17 early a.m.]

Okay, so I’m running good. There’s no doubt about that because I just played two more $525 single-table satellites, my third straight night in the satellite room, and I won them both. I should be doing well, but not this well.

This is why you should always follow any advice Andy Bloch gives you at the urinal.

After I won the first satellite a little after 1 AM, I stopped by the restroom and ran into Andy, whom I haven’t seen in a couple of days. Of course, I haven’t seen anybody from the World Series in a couple days because I’ve been submerged in Satellite World. Andy was down to the last two tables of the Limit Hold ‘Em Championship; they’re playing it out today and he’s in the middle of the pack with 10 or 11 to go. I mentioned to him my feeling that I had been shunning satellites out of some misguided elitism and that’s when he told me,  “You should definitely being playing satellites. There’s a lot of value there.” I then proceeded to do exactly that and won the second satellite.

But that’s not why I’m telling this story.

I should be doing better than average, but there’s no level of skill that would lead to my winning four out of six of these satellites, which I’ve done. The last satellite of the night, my sixth of the last three days, was the most unusual of the satellites (though they have all been unusual in one way or another).

Is there a time when it’s too late to start a poker game?

I would have thought not, but I now know otherwise. 1:45 AM is too late to be starting a $525 single-table satellite at the World Series of Poker. I was seated in Seat 2. The player in Seat 1, who started by ordering two martinis, wouldn’t make any move until the dealer told him it was his turn. The player on my left in Seat 3 seemed to have a different problem with a similar effect. It was as if he spoke a language that nobody else spoke or could understand. He seemed perfectly alert, but wouldn’t make a move until the dealer specifically motioned to him, like he was waiting for a signal. Then the player in Seat 5 began by ordering two Bud Lights, “Heavy on the Bud”. He busted after about six hands though, so there’s no telling how impaired he actually was.

The winner in the Mr. Stupor Contest, however, was the player in Seat 8. After the first hand, he fell asleep at his seat. And I don’t mean surreptitiously asleep, or accidentally asleep, I mean slippers-and-nightcap asleep.

This player would have to be woken up by the dealer, or by the player in Seat 7, before his action every hand, and immediately after his action, he would tip his head back as far as it would go, close his eyes and instantly fall asleep. There was not a single hand during which he did not sleep in the entirety of the time between his last action and his first action on the next hand. And there was not a single hand where he did not have to be woken up before his action.

The players, myself included, started making derogatory comments about him because he was so selfish. There’s not a lot of play for your money in these satellites and we were getting in even fewer hands between Seats 1 and 3 playing slow, and Seat 8 dozing off every hand. It was like playing a poker game in a Greyhound Bus Terminal. It took a while to get the floorman’s attention – maybe he was catching forty winks himself – and when he came to the table, he saw that Seat 8 was fast asleep. His solution was to step behind Seat 8, yell “wake up!”, and walk away.

That actually worked … until he folded his hand and instantly fell asleep again.

Somebody was backing Rip Van Winkle in this satellite. Another regular in the satellite room walked by at about 2:15, nudged Seat 8, reminded him of their financial arrangements, and then wished him good luck and said good night. As the backer walked away the player in Seat 7 said, “Hey, do you think you could get your buddy some coffee?”

And then the player in Seat 9 added, “Or methamphetamines?”

The backer waved off the suggestions, “Nah he doesn’t need that stuff. It’s okay.” And then he walked away.

As he retreated I said, “Yeah okay for you. You get to go home.”

I’m a pretty tolerant guy at the poker table, but this was getting to be too much, even for me. I don’t know if I wanted that guy gone or I wanted myself gone but at about 2:30 I raised with K-9 in the middle position. Another player called me and then Sleeping Beauty in the big blind moved all-in. I had him covered, but only by about 500 chips. I decided that unless he had pocket aces or pocket kings, or A-K, I was probably getting the right price to call him and even if I wasn’t, I would still have a few chips left and even if those few chips weren’t not enough,  I could afford to go home with one win, one loss and my sanity. I eventually called and he showed A-K so I was in trouble. I hit a nine on the turn however, and busted him.

He got angry, pounded the table, swore, and stomped off. It was by a huge margin the most energy he had expended for the entire satellite.

After his angry exit, I said in a low voice to the other players, “Do you think it would have been bad form if I had said ‘Sweet dreams’?”

Nobody said anything and the game continued without pause. The dealer, however, mouthed the words “thank you” as he dealt the next hand.